


By Any Other Name

by barbitone



Series: Voltron Fanfiction [47]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Clones, M/M, Sex, canon typical death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone
Summary: “How can I help you, Black Paladin?” he asks once the Black Paladin stops before the cell, his fingers twitching slightly at his side. He’s tense too, though Lotor doesn’t know why. He has all the power here, though maybe- hopefully- he doesn’t know it.“I wanted to say- thank you,” the Black Paladin says.





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [bittersweetangstlord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersweetangstlord/pseuds/bittersweetangstlord) for the beta!!!

 

* * *

 

 

He’s only been in the cell for a few vargas when the Black Paladin returns, alone and strangely uncertain. Lotor tilts his head as he watches the man approach, muscles tensing for a fight despite himself.

“How can I help you, Black Paladin?” he asks once the Black Paladin stops before the cell, his fingers twitching slightly at his side. He’s tense too, though Lotor doesn’t know why. He has all the power here, though maybe- hopefully- he doesn’t know it.

“I wanted to say- thank you,” the Black Paladin says.

Lotor’s eyes widen in surprise before he schools his expression back to cool neutrality.

“For saving Keith, for- the rest of it. Thank you.”

“You don’t think I did it out of selfish motives?”

“I don’t care why you did it,” the Black Paladin says. “Keith is alive because of you. That’s all that matters.”

Lotor isn’t sure what to say to that so he says nothing at all. The Black Paladin fidgets, tightening his hands into fists before letting them go slack again.

“Was there anything else?” Lotor asks curiously.

“I-” the Black Paladin breaks off and swallows heavily. “Do I- do we- do we know each other?”

Lotor is taken aback all over again. It’s a surprisingly complicated question. The easiest answer is no, they don’t _know_ each other at all. And yet-

“I know of you, certainly,” he says carefully. “I’ve seen the broadcasts. Your Voltron show, as well as… the others.”

The Black Paladin grimaces and looks away. He seems to be battling with something and when he looks up again his gray eyes are clear and determined. “It’s just, you seem- familiar.”

“We met once,” Lotor says. “Commander Sendak was sent to inspect my sector and he brought you with him. We spoke briefly. You said you wanted blood. So no, I wouldn’t say we know each other.”

The Black Paladin winces, shame clouding his features. “I don’t remember,” he says quietly. “There’s a lot I don’t remember.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best,” Lotor says.

“How can I move past it if I don’t-” the Black Paladin sighs sharply and seems to remember himself. Lotor can practically see the walls going up until the man is standing tall and blank before him, vulnerability hidden away. “Thank you,” he says stiffly. “I’d better go.”

Lotor inclines his head and watches him leave. He remembers meeting the Champion, remembers his cold unflinching gaze and the set of his shoulders, his gait. He’d walked like a predator. This man- this Black Paladin- seems different somehow, softer or younger in some indefinable way.

He returns in the morning with the Princess and her Steward to question him, and then again alone late at night.

“Black Paladin,” Lotor greets him with a faint smile.

“Prince Lotor,” the man says stiffly.

“How can I help you?”

The Black Paladin seems uncertain in a way he didn’t while he wasn’t alone. But he’s alone now and somehow unsteady, uncomposed.

“Can you tell me about the broadcasts?” he asks quietly.

It’s strange, to say the least, that the Black Paladin would ask him for help. Ask him for anything, especially something this personal. The very idea that he’d trust what Lotor has to say is heady, and for a moment he feels the question as a solid weight on his chest. He could say anything, lie, twist the truth. He could use this as an opportunity to manipulate him, turn him to his side.

He could do any number of things, but the Black Paladin is hurting, that much is clear. Lotor knows full well the damage captivity can do. He knows what cruelty Haggar is capable of, can read it over the Black Paladin’s face as clear as day.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” he asks quietly. He’d be better off not knowing the things Lotor has seen, the things he’s done.

“I need to know.”

“Very well,” Lotor says, standing and walking closer. The Black Paladin looks down at his feet as Lotor speaks, his hands clenched into fists and trembling faintly. Lotor tells him of the first few matches, about pain and sweat and desperation. He tells him how he’d raised his blade and demanded blood to the frenzied shouting of the Galra audience.

 _“Oh god,”_ the Black Paladin whispers shakily, stumbling back. “Did I really…”

“It was an act,” Lotor says gently. “A good one. It kept you alive. You’re not the same man now as you were then.” He can feel it in his gut, this Black Paladin is not the Champion he’d met before.

“I’m going to be sick,” the Black Paladin says in a broken whisper, pressing his flesh hand to his mouth.

Lotor takes a step forward in alarm and raises his hand to reach out only to stop just shy of the barrier. “Breathe,” he says firmly. “Black Paladin!”

“I- I- _fuck,”_ the Black Paladin says, sinking to his knees with a wince and clutching his head. He groans in pain and Lotor doesn’t know what to do other than crouch down and look at him.

He searches his mind for anything he knows about the man kneeling before him and in a moment of clarity remembers the prisoner manifest.

“Takashi!” he says sharply and is gratified when the Black Paladin looks up at him in shock, his eyes wide with some imagined terror. “Breathe. Look at me and breathe.”

The Black Paladin takes a deep shuddering breath, and then another, and then the worst of it seems to pass.

“Breathe, Takashi,” Lotor says quietly. “It’s over now, just breathe.”

“Shiro,” he whispers after what feels like ages of silence. “I go by Shiro.” When he gets to his feet Lotor rises as well. Shiro doesn’t meet his gaze as he pushes his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “I’d better- I’d better go.”

“Good night,” Lotor says. “You know where to find me if you’d like to speak again.”

The corner of Shiro’s mouth quirks up in a wry smile for an instant before it’s gone. “Right,” he says with a shaky sigh. “I guess so.”

After that he returns nearly every night, asking about his time in the arena, asking Lotor to recount all the details he remembers.

“Tell me again,” he says once Lotor’s finished describing his fight with Myzax.

“Shiro,” he says carefully.

“Again,” he says with a glare.

“No,” Lotor says, glaring back. “What are you doing? How is wallowing in the past helping you? Hearing the same stories over and over again-”

“I don’t know!” Shiro bursts out angrily before sighing and turning away to run his fingers through his hair. “What else can I do? I don’t- _remember,_ and I-”

Lotor waits for him to compose himself and finally Shiro straightens.

“Tell me about Haggar,” he says.

Lotor narrows his eyes. “What about her?”

“Tell me about- her experiments, her research. Why would she- she took my arm. Why-”

“No, Shiro.”

“Tell me!” Shiro yells, whirling around to glare at him, his eyes flashing with anger.

That’s more the man he remembers- cold and determined, brittle and dangerous. But he’s shattered now in some way Lotor can’t quite grasp. There’s a desperation inside him that makes Lotor’s heart ache. He knows that feeling- he’s felt it himself so many times. Cold and alone, confused and lost. Shiro is one of his captors, and yet Lotor feels a strange connection to him that overpowers his own self-interest.

He can use this moment but for some reason he doesn’t. He looks into Shiro’s face, his stormy gray eyes and the tight set of his jaw, his trembling chin, and tells the truth.

“I don’t know what she did to you or why,” he says. “I can only speculate. Do you really need more horrors in your mind? More questions?”

Shiro tightens his lips and looks down again, wrapping his arms around his stomach like he’s reeling from a physical blow. “Maybe you’re right,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry. I just- sometimes it feels like-”

“Like what?” Lotor asks when he realizes he’s not about to finish that sentence.

Shiro looks up, his eyes wide and afraid. “I feel like I’m- wrong. Like I’m not myself somehow. I- I get headaches sometimes. See things that aren’t there. If I can just- _know._ What she did, what’s happening, I-”

“Have you told the others?” Lotor asks.

“No,” Shiro says with a bitter laugh. “I can’t- I shouldn’t have told you either. I don’t know what I was thinking. _Fuck._ I never know what I’m thinking anymore.”

“Shiro-”

“This was a mistake,” Shiro says, stumbling back. “What was I- I shouldn’t have come. I can’t trust you! Everything you’ve told me, it could have been a lie-”

“I’m not lying,” Lotor says. He wishes he could reach through the barrier and put his hands on Shiro’s shoulders. He looks so lost and alone, clearly struggling not to let panic overwhelm him. “Shiro.”

“Stop,” Shiro says. “Stop. I-” He exhales sharply and turns to leave. Lotor doesn’t call after him. He’ll be back, he’s sure of it.

It takes a few quintants but sure enough, Shiro returns. Lotor doesn’t stand as he watches the Black Paladin approach. He hasn’t been sleeping, that much is clear from the tension around his mouth, the shadows under his eyes.

He bites his lip as he looks up at Lotor sitting in his cell. He looks lost and- ashamed.

“Shut down the barrier, Shiro,” Lotor says quietly.

“What?” Shiro asks in alarm.

“Are you worried I’ll attempt to escape?” Lotor asks with a laugh. “There’s no place in this universe for me to go. Please. Shut down the barrier.”

Shiro hesitates but then he walks over to the console and shuts down the barrier. Lotor doesn’t stand, just holds out his hand.

“Come here.”

Shiro takes an uncertain step forward, and then another. Lotor doesn’t move, doing his best to appear non-threatening. It must work because Shiro closes his eyes and sinks to his knees before pressing his forehead to Lotor’s thigh, breathing harshly.

“These things you see, that aren’t real,” Lotor starts carefully, moving to run his fingers through Shiro’s hair. “Tell me of them.”

Shiro swallows loudly, shivering. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispers. “Talking to you.”

“But you are,” Lotor says, perhaps a bit uncharitably. “Tell me.”

“I see- doctors, bright lights. Sometimes there’s- bubbles floating up through thick liquid. Like I’m in some sort of tank. Sometimes I see…”

“What?”

“Myself,” Shiro whispers. “Strapped to a table, screaming, trapped in nothingless. Standing in the middle of a vast dark space. The ground is a mirror and the sky is just- stars. And nothing.” He looks up, devastated and aching for answers. “What does it mean?” he asks in a small voice.

“I don’t know,” Lotor says. “I’m sorry.”

Shiro shudders and makes a small resigned sound but doesn’t move away. Eventually he stands on shaky legs and wipes at his eyes with the back of his flesh hand.

“Don’t tell the others,” he says quietly. “Please.”

“I haven’t and I won’t,” Lotor answers. “But you should tell them yourself.”

“They’re… they won’t understand. They’re children. They can’t begin to understand what I’ve been through, and I- I don’t want them to.”

“The Steward, then,” Lotor says. “The one with the,” he waves at his face vaguely to indicate the man’s bushy mustache.

“Coran?” Shiro asks, laughing. “Thanks, I’ll- I’ll pass.”

Lotor finds himself smiling too.

“He’ll probably just tell me to- to- yodel at a yalmor, or- have a glass of Nunvick.”

“I think you mean Nunville,” Lotor corrects with a quiet laugh. “Bring a bottle with you tomorrow. We can have a glass together.”

“It can’t hurt, right?” Shiro asks, smiling wryly.

“Probably not.”

Shiro pauses as he’s about to leave, frowning faintly. “Why are you… why are you doing this? Helping me? Why are you doing any of this?”

“Is it so difficult to believe that I’m not some monster?” Lotor asks, tilting his head to the side. Shiro seems oddly ashamed and Lotor smiles. “Due to our circumstances we were briefly enemies, but I’m just a man like any other. I’m not evil or cruel. I’d like to help you if I can. Like I wish someone might help me.”

The last is as close as he’ll get to a plea for mercy, for clemency. He’s laid his cards out on the table and he’s waiting for someone to finally take him at his word. Maybe it will be Shiro. Maybe not.

Shiro nods tightly and Lotor can see his mind is racing with thoughts other than his own troubles, his own nightmares and trauma.

“Good night, Lotor,” he says quietly and turns the barrier back on before leaving.

Shiro continues to return after that, but he no longer wants to hear about his captivity. He asks Lotor about his life instead. Sharing such things is difficult, to say the least. Most of Lotor’s life is hardship and pain, indignity on top of indignity.

He finds small gems in the heap of tragedy and shines them off before carefully handing them to Shiro. The time he crash landed on a planet full of flowers, the time he was rescued from a Xanthorium field by pirates, the time he helped a stranded Unilu family find their way home. He finds some measure of peace in the telling. The walls are closing in on him but he knows he’s lived a full life, a good life as best he could. If this is the end, telling Shiro about his victories brings him some small bit of closure.

Shiro’s there when they inform him he’s to be traded back to his father, but of course he doesn’t speak until he visits again that night.

“I’ll help you escape,” he says in a harsh whisper. “This isn’t right, I’m sorry.”

“What would be the point?” Lotor demands in a rare moment of raw honesty. “There’s nowhere I can go where he won’t find me, nowhere that’s safe. That’s why I came here in the first place, why I-” he winces and looks down, leaning his elbows on his knees. It’s over. After all this time- it’s over.

“What if you could fight him?” Shiro asks.

Lotor looks up in disbelief. “Fight him? All of Voltron couldn’t take him down, and you want _me_ to-”

“Yes,” Shiro says, his eyes dark with determination. _“Yes._ You can do it. I know you can. With this.”

He offers his Bayard, the Black Bayard, _Zarkon’s_ Bayard, and Lotor can hardly catch his breath.

“You’re serious?” he asks, searching Shiro’s face. But there’s no sign of deception, no sign of doubt, just cold and quiet certainty that takes Lotor’s breath away.

_“Yes.”_

Lotor reaches out for the Bayard with shaking fingers and at the first touch the world seems to fade away.

He feels an ancient consciousness uncurling against his own, huge and ageless, greedy and selfish. It’s _hungry_ like no hunger he’s felt before; it wants to rage and devour. He opens his eyes and he’s somewhere dark. The ground is a mirror and the sky is made up of stars and nothingness and the Black Lion is before him, cold and unyielding.

There are other things, too- echoes. Echoes of his _father_ , young and uncorrupted, smiling as he holds a pregnant Honerva in his arms and murmurs sweet nothings into her ear too quiet for Lotor to hear. There’s the other Zarkon too, the one he knows, broken and poisoned, so angry that it makes Lotor’s veins burn even from the specter of it. And then an icy presence washes Zarkon away and Lotor turns to see _Shiro._ But not the Shiro he knows.

This man is cold and powerful, somehow eternal. He scowls as he walks closer. He walks like a predator.

“Lotor?”

Lotor gasps and he’s back in his body, back in the present. With a wince he makes the Black Bayard dissipate and knows he can summon it again when he needs it, though he dreads that moment like he’s never dreaded anything before.

“How can you bear it?” he asks despite himself. Shiro frowns and Lotor elaborates, still reeling from that strange otherworldly moment. “Having all that in your mind. The Lion, the- the- _others.”_

Shiro frowns, looking down sadly. “I don’t- I don’t hear it anymore. Not since-” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not too late to go. I’ll- you can get your ship and-”

“No,” Lotor says firmly. “No, I’ll face him. Thank you.”

Shiro smiles, reaching out to take Lotor by the shoulders. They’re close now, closer than before. For a second Lotor’s sure that Shiro will kiss him and his gaze dips to Shiro’s lips. He wants him to, even though he knows it’s a terrible idea.

It’s a terrible idea but he’ll likely die tomorrow, and would it be so wrong to just- take a moment, a bit of happiness with him before he goes? He can hardly breathe through the fear, but Shiro is here and warm and-

He stands and Lotor fights not to chase after him. He fights to keep what little dignity he has left as he tightens his hands into fists.

“Good night, Lotor,” Shiro says quietly, engaging the barrier once again.

“Good night, Shiro,” he whispers back, and fights not to cry.

 

* * *

 

The fact that he survives is a marvel. The fact that he _wins_ is nothing short of a miracle.

Afterwards the Paladins take him to a real room rather than his prison and he washes in a stupor, trying to wrap his mind around everything that’s happened. Everything he’s _done._

When the knock comes he’s not surprised and he opens the door to Shiro standing uncertainly out in the hall. Everything falls into place and Lotor drags him inside, pushes him up against the wall, claims his lips in a kiss.

It’s oddly easy then to pull Shiro’s clothes off, to lead him to bed. He lets Shiro kiss him and touch him, hold him down and undress him. He lets himself gasp and cry out, writhe and arch up- lets himself take this moment and live in it.

It’s dangerous but for once he doesn’t care. Everything’s moving so fast now, any moment may be his last- _will be_ his last. He’s been so careful, waited so long. He’s let so much of life pass him by as he chased some noble goal- peace, prosperity, the end of the bloodshed. He’s spent so much of himself for the wellbeing of others that he’s barely had a chance to live for himself.

He lives for himself now, with Shiro’s fingers pushing inside him, Shiro’s mouth on his neck and at his ear, whispering sweet nothings about how beautiful he is, how good he feels. He’s full to bursting with the pleasure of it all and then Shiro pushes his knees up and enters him and the world whites out for one truly glorious moment, and for a beautiful perfect second he thinks of nothing at all.

He’s brought back to the present when Shiro starts to move, the animalistic ecstasy of it making him gasp and cry out. He’s never felt this wild before, this taken and claimed and _loved_ and it’s too much to take all at once. He can only look at one facet at a time- Shiro’s sweet whispers in his ear, Shiro’s hands clutching his hips, Shiro’s cock driving into him, Shiro’s sweat-slick skin moving against him. If he takes it all at once he might crack under the pressure of it, under the pressure of the care that Shiro treats him with, and so he looks at one thing at a time instead.

Once it’s over he nearly cries with devastation but somehow he manages to keep himself in check even as Shiro strokes his hair and holds him close. He’s had lovers before but not like this. He’s used to quick fucks in backwards repair stations, bars and clubs, the occasional soldier approaching him in a quiet hallway. This is something different- care and comfort given freely with nothing expected in return. It’s enough to break him and he holds himself together through sheer force of will.

It only gets worse from there.

Shiro is… a force of nature. A lightning storm and a wildfire. For all that he doesn’t remember his recent past, it doesn’t stop him from driving into the future.

He takes Lotor to the Kral Zera.

He backs him up afterwards, against his team, against the remains of the Galra Empire, against the whole damn universe.

When the Paladins come to Central Command, Shiro finds his way to the Imperial Chamber the very first night and Lotor lets Shiro fuck him against the wall, and then again in bed, and then, much later, in the bath. He lets Shiro do whatever he wants and revels in it, in the strange warm freedom if it, of letting himself go. Letting himself _want._

Of course it can’t last forever. Nothing ever does.

They find out eventually about the colony. It doesn’t matter how wrong their conclusions are, the only thing that matters is their anger. He’s still trying to explain himself when he’s thrown to the ground and wakes to-

Shiro.

“Shiro?” he asks weakly, raising his hand to his aching head. They’re in a ship, and-

And Shiro isn’t answering. He’s looking straight ahead with a fixed gaze.

“Shiro,” Lotor tries again, and when he leans forward Shiro shoves him back. But not before he’s managed to catch a glimpse of his face- his eyes cold and irises glowing purple.

Lotor feels sick, his stomach filling with dread. Everything locks into place all at once. Shiro’s fears, Haggar’s experiments, now this. It’s all been a lie. Or maybe not all of it. But this, at least- is something he can’t run from. Shiro isn’t his, he’s _hers._ A puppet, a brainwashed body, a clone, it doesn’t matter.

It’s been a lie.

It’s a miracle he doesn’t vomit as he’s taken to the base, to Haggar. His mind is screaming with horror and he has to pretend to be in control just to survive and- and-

And-

And-

So many things happen. He’s not sure where he is for most of them. Somewhere outside his body as his mind functions on autopilot. What’s the point? What’s the point?

What’s the-

What’s-

The Princess compares him to his father and somehow what little restraint he’s had snaps, and-

There’s fire-

He’s so _angry._ He’s never been this angry before, and-

And-

The Black Lion is there. He reaches out to Shiro, to try and get some measure of comfort and understanding, but all he feels is _hunger._ It’s not Shiro piloting the metal beast, it’s the half Galra boy- Keith- and some presence he vaguely recognizes. It’s the Champion he met so long ago, cold and unyielding. He looks into Lotor’s mind and snarls like a predator and Lotor pulls back from the link in agony.

He’s alone.

He’s never been this alone before. He’s always been able to fool himself that he had allies, friends, and now-

Now he’s alone.

There’s an ancient consciousness bearing down on him. It feels his pain. It’s angry too. It’s so angry. It wants to take him and-

And-

He lets go.

 

* * *

 

He wakes to nothingness.

The world is in black and white. The ground is a mirror and the sky is full of stars with nothing behind them.

He aches, and rages, and fights- but there’s nothing to fight. He’s alone, alone-

Alone.

He’s alone.

As soon as he accepts it, it feels as though the tide is bearing down on him. He falls to his knees, devastated and broken and lets himself weep for what feels like the first time.

Alone, alone, alone-

Is this the afterlife? Is this what eternity is like?

It’s agony.

And then-

A star in the darkness. He chases after it, follows where it fell, and there he finds-

Shiro.

“Shiro,” he whispers as he cradles the man’s face in his hands. And it’s _his_ Shiro, not the Champion or the Black Paladin. _His Shiro._ The one that held him close and kissed him, the one who whispered his name like a prayer. His Shiro. The one that _saw_ him and loved him.

“Shiro!” he cries out desperately.

“Lotor?” he asks weakly, opening his eyes.

The world around them gains color, trees grow out of the mirror-black of the ground and clouds form in the sky. A whole universe starts to coalesce out of nothingness and the only thing Lotor has eyes for is Shiro before him, frowning faintly as he gets his bearings.

“Shiro?” Lotor asks, not trying to hide the desperation in his tone.

Shiro smiles and raises his hand to cradle his face.

“Yes,” he whispers at last. “I’m here.”  
  


_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [barbitone](http://barbitone.tumblr.com/) and pillowfort also at [barbitone](https://www.pillowfort.io/barbitone)


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